Messages
by Warrior of Ice
Summary: Everyone knows the quickest way to a senshi's heart is through Makoto's bakery.
1. Autumn

_Autumn_

Makoto took one more deep, scent-filled breath before she unlocked the door and entered the one place that was hers, even more than the small apartment she now lived in. She switched on the lights and the radio for company, and started pulling down the chairs and the chilled dough from the refrigerator.

As she hummed along to the music, her strong, unadorned fingers kneaded and flipped the dough with smooth, competent movements. The critical expression on her face as she assessed the temperature and texture of the dough turned into a bright smile whenever she looked out the windows at the fall foliage. The little Davis girls who lived next door might not be looking forward to the start of another school year, but Makoto was always eager for any sign that autumn was on the verge of returning.

In the spring, the gardeners have their say, like fickle perfumers who never create the same scent twice. Every day a different fragrance fills the air, diffused from the ever-changing configuration of flowers in bloom.

Fall, though – fall is for the bakers. It's the time when the leaves on the trees are painted with russet apple red, butter yellow, pumpkin orange, and cinnamon brown, when the fragile beams of sunlight seem as delicate and golden as egg-washed pastry browning in the oven. The crisp breezes, hurried along by their sugared edges of morning frost, are willing conspirers. As they swirl around each other through fruit-laden branches, curling squash vines, and crunchy piles of leaves in their ceaseless game of tag, they waft the tantalizing smells of smoky wood chips, roasting nuts, and fresh-baked breads and pastries straight to eager noses.

At five to seven, Makoto washed her hands and walked over to flip the wooden sign painted with cheerful pink roses from "Closed" to "Open." There was no one waiting at the door today, but that was the exception rather than the rule – these days, she usually found a few hopefuls in advance of the early morning crowd. When Makoto puzzled over why her rather ambitious attempt at opening a combined bakery and florist's shop had achieved success so quickly, each of her friends had a different response.

Usagi , with her mouth full of whatever had just come out of the oven, was of the unshakable belief that Makoto's cooking was the best in the entire world, and that other people were just recognizing this simple fact of life.

Minako insisted that it was the unbeatable combination of Makoto's gorgeous smile and her lemon poppyseed muffins, cranberry tea bread, and triple chocolate Struck by Lightning cookies… and would she please be able to spare three of the tea breads and half a dozen each of the muffins and cookies for her work meeting today, thank you so much she was a life saver, and she promised to give Makoto more notice next time. And maybe Makoto could give her another ivy plant since hers had died again. Makoto didn't mind these last minute requests quite so much because well, it was Minako, and that was just the way she was about anything that didn't involve senshi business, and the blonde sent plenty of customers her way through her enthusiastic recommendations. Of course, that didn't mean she was willing to bend on the ivy plant – Minako was hopeless with plants, and Makoto wasn't sure she could be rehabilitated.

Rei spent a moment sighing over Minako's and Usagi's habits before offering her opinion, which was that Makoto's food was lovingly made with the best ingredients and her flowers were grown with care and respect, and it was these things which refreshed and infused the spirits of her customers for the rest of the day. She then took the single bite of the honey- and nut-filled baklava she allowed herself and closed her eyes in blissful satisfaction.

Over her cup of fragrant orange tea, Ami smiled her gentle smile and told her that she had a good business model and provided consistently excellent food and service. Mamoru looked up from his third and best cup of coffee of that day and said simply, "You make your customers feel like they're at home."

Her eyes filled, but they shared a smile of perfect understanding before Makoto returned to the kitchen to rescue her latest batch of blueberry scones from the oven. When she glanced back, she saw Usagi take Mamoru's hand, and he dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head. She smiled, and she saw that the other senshi were, too – life was finally settling into the way it was supposed to be.

* * *

><p>She was just stepping out of the refrigerator that took up an entire wall of the florist area when she heard the cheerful tinkle of the hand-strung wind chimes over the door, followed by the sound of shoes scraping politely on the mat. The steps were filled with a buoyant expectancy, as feather-light as the puffs of her profiteroles. Here was someone looking forward to good things.<p>

Makoto looked down at her watch and smiled. As usual, he was right on time – which for Mamoru meant ten minutes early. She wondered how he was able to keep that up in the hospital, with its notorious waiting times. After setting her armful of chrysanthemums in a temporary holding vase, she headed back to the bakery counter and pulled out the cake she had been keeping an eye on all afternoon. It was a circular German chocolate cake covered in vanilla bean frosting and topped with piped pink peonies and candied orange blossoms. Makoto fussed with the orange blossoms one last time, making absolutely sure everything was in place. After all, this cake was the embodiment of her most heartfelt blessings to her prince and princess, and she had probably spent as much time coming up with the design as Mamoru had in choosing the ring. The orange blossoms stood for innocence and eternal love, and the peonies were a wish for a happy marriage and a happy life, the things she thought they most deserved.

"That looks beautiful, Makoto. Too good to eat."

She looked up into Mamoru's midnight blue eyes, noticing that he looked a little more anxious and a lot neater than usual, but otherwise he was the same kind, noble prince they had always known. "I appreciate the compliment, but what would make me happiest is if you do eat it! Not that I have any doubt Usagi couldn't eat the whole thing by herself."

He nodded in agreement, having seen his dainty fiancée do such a thing before.

Makoto took her time settling the cake in its white box with the bakery logo stenciled on top. "We're all so happy for you two. I think we're almost as excited as you to see it happening at last."

"I'm a little nervous," he confessed.

She looked up in surprise. "What's there to be nervous about? Of course she'll say yes."

Mamoru smiled, reassured by the confidence she had in him. "You're right. I do know. But I just want everything to go perfectly this time around."

"It will." She tied the pink satin ribbon with a flourish. "There. Chocolate cake for the perfect finish to a picnic and proposal. All that's left is a giant bouquet of red roses – but you can take care of those yourself, can't you?" She winked at him.

"Absolutely." He took the wicker basket and box from her with a grateful smile. "Thank you so much, Makoto."

"Tell Usagi to stop in and show me the ring tomorrow, all right?" She had been resisting the urge – just barely – to ask to see it now, but only because she thought Usagi should be the first to see it.

"I will."

When he opened the door, Makoto could have sworn she heard the silvery peal of wedding bells instead of the sweet everyday tones of the wind chimes.

* * *

><p>AN: First attempt at writing a more Makoto-centric fic. Shitennou make their first appearance in the next chapter. The whole thing should be short and sweet and finished by October. Thanks for reading and reviewing!<p> 


	2. Winter

_Winter_

Forty eggs and several pounds of butter and sugar later, she almost felt better. Almost, but not quite. Even though she had made good use of the industrial mixer, her arm was aching, but not as much as her heart. It was always difficult to see former lovers return. Particularly ones whose return was not only unexpected and unwanted, but should have been impossible.

She also hated to see the effect it had on her princess. The residual glow of happiness from Usagi's engagement had lasted through the changing of the seasons, only to be dimmed by her conflicting emotions. Usagi was happy for Mamoru's sake, worried for her senshi, and concerned about what the Shitennou's return meant for her own evolving relationship with their prince.

As she wiped away a stray tear, one she insisted came from frustration and anger, Makoto thought she was grateful the room was empty. After Thanksgiving and the dual sins of overeating and overspending, business at the bakery was slow. Still, she should be glad of business, not wishing it away.

Makoto sighed heavily, clearing the sink of what could safely go into the already crowded dishwasher. That was what the Shitennou did – turned things upside down, left to right, right to wrong. It wasn't fair, but it was what she thought.

Some women cried in times of distress; others flirted, gossiped, or turned to consumer therapy or chocolate. Makoto figured she was taking the last option: she had hunted up the finest bittersweet chocolate she had on hand, melted whole slabs of it to just the right consistency, and baked the darkest, densest, most decadent flourless chocolate cake she had ever made. She would cover it with something white and sweet and innocent-looking, something that disguised all the calories and dark flavor brooding inside the flat little slice of cake, and send a slice of it to each of the senshi. All of them would eat it, every last bite of it, and they would understand what it meant.

The question now was what to do with the other cakes. She glanced into the oven at the rack of circular pans filled with her extravagant creation. She didn't want it to become billed as "the break-up cake," something for scorned women to drown their sorrows in. It was at once better and worse than that.

In the end, she named it Redemption Cake. It wasn't the cake that redeemed you. It was a luxury so rich and dark and sinful that you felt like you needed redemption after eating only two forkfuls of it. To her surprise, it was extremely popular. It seemed like everyone was looking for redemption these days.

* * *

><p>When he came through the door, accompanied by a chilly breeze and a dash of snowflakes, Makoto was in the middle of babying her pink and white Christmas cacti. She saw him pause, studying her most recent creation in the glass display case. He didn't try a slice, but he didn't say anything about it to her, either.<p>

When she was finished, she took her break. She left one of her employees to mind the counter and brought him his usual cup of coffee.

"Thanks, Makoto," he told her, warming fingers still slightly red from the cold against the cup.

"No problem. How are things at the hospital?"

He sighed. "Busy, unfortunately. There were a lot of car accidents on the icy roads. You'll drive safely on your way home, won't you?"

She smiled reassuringly. "Of course. Do you think we'll be getting much more snow tonight?"

Mamoru made an equivocal gesture. "I hope not. If there's time, I wanted to start making a dent in my Christmas shopping list. Otherwise, the socks aisle always starts looking terribly attractive in my times of emergency."

She chuckled, having been the recipient of several very nice pairs of socks from him over the years. "Again, Mamoru? Thank goodness some things never change."

Her smile faded as she realized how her words could be taken, and he fiddled with his spoon. "I thought you might be mad at me."

Makoto shook her head. It was impossible to stay mad at Mamoru. And unnecessary when there existed much easier, more deserving targets for her rage. "No. It wasn't anything you did, anyway."

"But I wanted them to come back."

"How could you?" She asked it not accusingly, but wonderingly.

Mamoru shrugged, looking up into her emerald eyes. There was anger and hostility and pain, but also a willingness to try to understand. "I can remember how betrayed I felt when they were first turned. It was like a knife to the heart. Yet I think that for them to have turned, I must have failed them in some way, too." He held up a hand to still her protest. "And after all the times I have been brainwashed by evil forces since the Silver Millennium, it feels somewhat hypocritical of me to blame them for things that may have been well beyond their control."

"It's not the same."

"Why not?" He asked the question in his gentle way, without reproach, and she responded with the truth.

"I don't know."

Mamoru nodded, as if her admission was enough for him. "I'm not asking you to let things go back to the way they were, Makoto. Nor am I asking you to trust them. I would just like you to…give them a chance."

"Did they ask you to come to us?" she demanded, ready to push her chair back with a harsh screech and stalk away if that turned out to be the case.

"No. They would be the first to say they don't think they deserve another chance," he said matter-of-factly.

Makoto frowned. "Why are you coming to me first?"

He held her gaze. "You and I both know what it's like to lose everyone and everything we care about. And how hard it is to go on afterwards."

* * *

><p>She brooded for the next few weeks, trying to take her mind off things by coming up with new ways to improve on traditional holiday treats. She decorated and sent off an assortment of miniature pine trees with happy owners, and fluffed leaves that didn't need fluffing on the gorgeous red and cream poinsettias.<p>

She didn't speak to the Shitennou, and they didn't come to her. The senshi dropped by often at first, then less frequently. They had said all there was to say, all that could be said. As if he sensed her need for space, Mamoru stayed away, making the great sacrifice of getting his daily caffeine fix from the hospital cafeteria. Only Usagi came around regularly, her smile becoming less strained as time went on. Her sweet tooth, of course, never changed.

Finally, on Christmas Eve, Makoto sent a special gingerbread house kit to the address she had asked Usagi for. Most of the pieces were standard – royal icing, candy canes, multicolored gumdrops, and round chocolate bits for paving stones. But she had already decorated the four gingerbread men. Two had blond icing hair, one with blue eyes and one with green. Kunzite's hair was the easiest, since it didn't need coloring. For _him_, she used chocolate – chocolate hair, chocolate eyes – and it still stood out against the gingerbread. It was the Brazilian chocolate that she used so sparingly, partially because it was pricy, but mostly because it had always reminded her of him. She hoped they understood the message, but just in case, she printed one carefully on the card she enclosed: _A home for those who have lost one_.

* * *

><p>The bakery was empty when he came, a dismal evening in late January when the sky was gray as lead and the cold discouraged any hope of spring's swift convalescence. Makoto was clearing the display case when she heard the loud clatter of the chimes that hung over the door. Despite the brash entrance, the newcomer paused, letting snow melt slowly onto the mat – this was someone uncertain of his welcome but not used to taking much care. She suspected that he had stood outside in the bitter wind for awhile, then given the door a hard, resolute push before he lost his nerve.<p>

She turned and greeted him calmly, with neither warmth nor hostility in her voice. "Hello, Zoisite." She wasn't surprised he was the first to come.

His red gold hair was shorter than she remembered but no neater, and the color was like a shout against the biscuit-colored walls of her quiet bakery. He gave her a somber nod. "Good evening, Jupiter."

"My name is Makoto now."

He nodded again, visibly assimilating this information. "The name on the card – do you own this business, then?" He slid his hands into the pockets of his tailored slacks, glancing around with new interest.

"Yes, I do," she answered, wondering what other details Mamoru had not yet shared with his returned brothers-in-arms. She didn't know whether to be gratified or the slightest bit disappointed that he hadn't been pressed for them.

Abruptly, the visitor said, "Thank you for the gift. It was – very kind, and we all appreciated it."

This was more like the Zoisite she remembered; a man with somewhat eccentric habits whose brilliant mind moved as quickly and restlessly as his limbs. The Shitennou had joked that Mercury was the first woman he had met who could not only keep up with him, but just as often surpass him.

"I'm glad," Makoto replied, and she found that it was true, even though she was still wary of him. "Would you like to sit down?"

He shook his head. "I noticed you are near to closing. I was hoping you had a moment to give me some advice."

She smiled crookedly. "One of the benefits of being the owner is calling the hours. What do you need advice about?"

He took in a slow breath, his verdant eyes fixed on a spot past her shoulder. She realized that not all of his jitteriness was due to his customary restlessness, but rather to nervousness. Perhaps he had chosen this time to give her an easy way to refuse to talk to him; perhaps he had even wondered if she might not be there, letting another employee close up shop. "Ami Mizuno."

"I can't– "

"I'm leaving," he interrupted bluntly.

"Why?" It was strange that this, the easiest solution they had wished for time and time again, suddenly seemed so shocking.

"Because she wants me to. Because it hurts her, confuses her, when I'm nearby, and so I think it best to remove myself." He drew in a shaky breath, and leaned against the counter with an attempt at a lighthearted expression. "So, what message can I send her that will let her know that even when I'm far from her, my thoughts won't be?"

Makoto bit her lip. "Wouldn't that be somewhat counterproductive?"

The ghost of his old ironic smile was in place. "Really, Makoto, do you expect me to quit the field so easily?"

"I'm not going to help you further upset my friend."

His slender form drooped slightly, and she took new account of the dark shadows under his eyes. "I think it would be more upsetting to her if I stayed. I will leave, and do my best to build a new life and acquire new skills, to be useful to my prince. But I can't just…abandon all hope. If I walk away, and she forgets me, I don't think that is a blow I can recover from, Makoto."

"You're a difficult man to forget, Zoisite, and I don't mean that entirely as a compliment."

He smiled briefly, and then his sober look returned. "She doesn't have to love me or even grow to like me. But I just want there to come a time when she can think of me without pain and accept that I will be a part of her life, in however a tangential and distant way it may be – just seeing me at Mamoru's side, perhaps, or knowing there is the possibility she could randomly encounter me on a city street."

"Such things take time."

"I'm willing to give her time. But to lose her twice is unthinkable."

He waited, unusually still and quiet, as she considered. Finally, she gave a soft, shallow sigh, and he felt as if something warm and brightly colored at been released into the room. "All right. But if I ever find that you didn't keep your word…"

He nodded, a wry twist to his mouth. "I understand your meaning, Jupiter."

"Call me Makoto," she reminded him, and he repeated it dutifully.

She walked briskly towards the kitchen, and he trailed her like a puppy. "I assume you want something tangible. But also something out of the ordinary."

"Yes. She is far from ordinary."

Makoto set her hands on her hips and regarded him with amusement. "You don't have to tell me that. Now, this will require some thought. Ami doesn't really have a sweet tooth."

"No?" His expression registered delight at this small scrap of information about Mercury's current incarnation.

"No," she said firmly, reminding herself not to let too much else slip. She thought for a few moments, then pulled out a tray and showed it to him.

"They're…cakes. Little cakes. Very beautiful cakes," Zoisite added hastily, seeing her brows draw together.

She pulled out a pencil and notepad. "They're petit fours. Small enough so that she won't be overwhelmed, substantial enough to carry flavor and message. Why don't you pick some?"

He eyed her warily. "None of them suggest things like malice or envy or hatred, do they?"

"I don't carry such things in my bakery," she replied tartly.

He apologized, then made his choices. He seemed to choose almost at random, perhaps because he liked the color scheme, but Makoto felt the chill hand of disbelief touch her. His first choice was a little iced cake with raspberry filling, and raspberries meant regret or remorse. The second held a candied violet on top, for faithfulness, and the third was decorated with forget-me-nots, a flower that stood for true love. The last had a tiny almond blossom piped on the surface and contained almond slivers inside, and it was meant to convey hope.

Zoisite raised an eyebrow, as if to ask how he had done.

"I'll send them to her tomorrow, when they're baked fresh."

He nodded. "Thank you, Makoto."

When he drew a thin leather wallet from his pocket, Makoto shook her head firmly. Usagi had told her how much difficulty the Shitennou were having finding employment in the economic downturn, which was one reason they were still crowded into Mamoru's apartment. Zoisite's departure might be appreciated in more ways than one.

He replaced his wallet reluctantly. "I will do my best to repay you at some future date, then."

As he walked towards the door, his strides long and decided now that he had completed their transaction, she called after him, "Where will you go?"

He paused, one hand on the door, and didn't look back. "I haven't decided yet. Back to my roots, perhaps."

She watched him leave, a thoughtful look on her face. When she set the petit fours to Ami, nestled in a simple wooden box, she added a small clutch of pansies to help fight the winter glooms. Their more subtle purpose was to let Ami know that someone was thinking of her – whether she interpreted that someone to be Makoto herself or Zoisite was uncertain, but Makoto knew both would be true.

The day she received a postcard from Berlin with a scribbled address and just the letter "Z" for a signature, Ami walked through her door again after weeks of frozen silence, and Makoto hugged her while she cried.


	3. Spring

_Spring_

She was out front, sweeping up the fallen blooms from her hanging plants, when an unfamiliar voice asked politely, "May I?"

Makoto turned to face the interloper, who stood with his shoulders straight and his hand out. The first tentative rays of spring sunshine glided curiously over his fair hair, then settled there as if they had found their new home, making the tousled curls gleam brightly.

She paused, then handed the broom over to him. "Thank you."

He inclined his head courteously and bent to his task while she went back inside to pipe peach-golden raspberry jam into the waiting donuts and whip up a fresh batch of éclair cream.

Twenty minutes later, he came inside, and her newest experiment was just about ready. The filling was warm almond apricot with just a touch of ginger for spice and for strength. She drizzled red raspberry sauce in the shape of an open-winged phoenix on top. The surprise was concealed in the bottom layer of pastry, where the phoenix motif reappeared, baked into the crust. It had taken her several tries to get it right, but she thought she had the hang of it now.

Makoto took the broom back and ushered him to a seat, placing one of the tarts fresh out of the oven before him. A customer at the next table motioned her over imperiously, and she asked him, "Would you mind waiting?"

"Not at all," he responded, and sank his fork into the delicacy while he watched her move around the bakery with efficient ease. She addressed the man's complaint, checked on the cheerful redhead at the register, restocked the bread bins, and bused some dishes on her way back to him. Finally, she sat down with a grateful sigh, glad to be off her feet for the moment. He was studying the bottom of the tin with a half-started, half-appreciative look.

"Very impressive," he commented, pushing up the bridge of his glasses as he met her gaze. "And what is your creation called?"

"Phoenix Tart. I hope you enjoyed it?"

With a slightly bemused smile at his empty plate, he set down his fork and remarked, "I think it was just what I needed." He paused, looking around the room with a slower and more careful glance than Zoisite's. "You seem to have a talent for discovering what people need."

"In some areas, I suppose." She leaned back, regarding him as closely as he was inspecting the premises. "And what are you in need of, Jadeite?"

He smiled faintly, as if what he left unsaid was a private joke between them. "At the moment, a gift, and I was told by a somewhat reliable source that you would be the one to go to."

"Ah. Would this somewhat reliable source be a mutual acquaintance who has taken up residence in Germany?"

"It would indeed."

"And who is this gift for?"

"Rei." He smiled at her unsurprised expression. "You may have heard that I am studying part-time at the local university. I needed a job to finance my studies, and she graciously offered me a position."

Makoto hid a smile, remembering the numerous times Rei had come by first fuming, then reluctantly thoughtful, about Usagi's bold suggestion.

"_You said it yourself, Rei, that your grandfather is getting too old to handle the maintenance of the shrine by himself. He's the only one of the Shitennou who hasn't been able to find a job yet."_

"_Well, he's not my responsibility." Rei sighed, shredding her chive biscuit into crumbs. "What does he want to do, anyway?"_

"_He's willing to do anything, but Mamoru says he knows that what he _really_ wants is to be able to pursue his studies in anthropology. A part-time job that would allow him to take some classes at the university would be ideal."_

Jadeite continued, "Since I was already…familiar with the Hikawa Shrine and the hours are quite flexible, it has greatly facilitated my studies. I wanted to bring her a small token of my appreciation."

"I see. Well, I think you've come to the right place. Now, Rei likes things that are useful. But what woman doesn't like something a little beautiful and frivolous – especially one who's being courted?"

He opened his hands, and the scarlet flush in his cheeks confirmed her guess. The fact that Rei hadn't been around to express her outrage and complain onerously about the affront gave her some idea of how he was being received. "I am at your mercy, Makoto."

She rose with a lofty shake of her apron and returned with a good-smelling, paper-wrapped loaf and an armful of brilliant, many-petaled crimson flowers.

He took both, but regarded her warily. "I'm told that your goods are often more than they seem, and my experience seems to have proven the statement to be true so far."

She laughed in delight. "Have you been talking to Ami, as well?"

Jadeite nodded solemnly. "We sometimes have lunch together at the university."

"Very well. This is rosemary olive bread – one for remembrance, the other for peace. And these flowers are red camellias, framed by ferns and some hawthorn berries, to express the sincerity of your intentions and your hope for the future."

She did not tell him about the purpose of the red camellias, tickled by the thought of the secret message he would be carrying to Rei: "You're a flame in my heart."

Although she loved Makoto's cooking and appreciated her artistic hand with flower arrangements, Rei believed in the kind of messages she received from the sacred fire. No matter – Makoto suspected her friend would find out soon enough what lay between her heart and his.

She accepted the thanks and the bills Jadeite offered and as he left, peered out the window. He had done a superlative job with the sweeping.


	4. Summer

_Summer_

High summer was at hand at last, and Makoto was glad of the chance to escape the heat of the ovens to work with her showy summer blooms. She worked at the counter next to the casement window, and when the sunlight streamed over her bent head, it brought out the rich auburn and mahogany tones in her hair. Her knife moved swiftly but surely as she cut the soaked floral foam into rounds so they would conform to the shapes of the centerpiece vases.

She took her much-needed break on the bench beneath the striped awning, sipping a tall glass of iced tea as she watched the customers entering the shop and greeted many of them by name. She indulged in a little game she often played with herself, trying to guess what each person was there for and checking if she had been right when they exited.

Here was someone who craved macaroons, she thought sagely, and there was someone who would come out with a clutch of sunflowers. This woman was looking for chocolate so dark it would remind her that there were things bitterer than her lot in life, and that man needed a slice of lemon meringue pie light and airy enough to float away on to match his big dreams. The next person was someone on an errand, perhaps picking up desserts for a dinner party or some flowers to freshen up the house for her in-laws' unexpected visit, but she wouldn't be able to resist getting a little something for herself.

Makoto was just about to force herself to get up and return to her work when she spotted another person moving purposefully down the sidewalk towards her. Still in guessing mode, she thought that despite his tanned skin, the newcomer was someone who could use more sunshine in his life. She blinked when he came closer, and Makoto recognized Kunzite's broad shoulders and upright carriage.

She had been expecting another visit from one of the Shitennou any day now – Jadeite turned up quite often these days, sometimes accompanying Rei and occasionally carrying her packages for her, and Zoisite was rumored to be returning from Germany within the month. The interesting part was that Ami had brought her this piece of news even before Usagi and Mamoru had. But any of the others had been a likelier candidate than Kunzite, even the one she refused to name, the one who she refused to allow to occupy more than a miniscule part of her thoughts. Makoto thought, somewhat ruefully, that with each day that passed without sight or sound of him, that tiny part grew bigger.

By this time, Kunzite had reached her bench, and was looking down at her gravely. "Good afternoon, Makoto."

She gazed up the great distance between them and wondered how Minako managed. Then again, her blonde friend was one who liked looking up at the bright skies rather than down at the pavement beneath her feet, so perhaps she managed quite well. "Hello, Kunzite. Are you just passing through the neighborhood, or can I offer you a bite to eat or something to drink?"

"I…yes, something cool to drink would be very welcome."

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, and she realized that he was uncharacteristically nervous. Oddly, the realization settled her, and she got to her feet with a smile. "I'll bring something out. Why don't you have a seat?" she invited, indicating the one she had just vacated.

Before he could respond, she disappeared inside. When she came out, she found that he had arranged his long limbs on the bench and carefully left a wide space for her. She had brought him a glass and refilled her own, feeling that it might lessen his anxiety if they were drinking the same thing. She suspected it was out of long habit rather than a conscious act that he waited for her to take a sip before he tried his own.

"This is very refreshing." He sounded mildly surprised, and less abstracted than he had first appeared.

"Pomegranate iced tea. It's a summer favorite." As he nodded, Makoto took pity on him and prodded gently, "If I were to go on past experience, I would guess that you're looking for something special, for someone who is close to both our hearts."

He straightened an infinitesimal amount in mild surprise, but smiled before he returned his gaze to the front. "Indeed. I appreciate your perceptiveness, Makoto. You are probably also aware that I often have difficulty expressing what I feel, and that this has troubled…me in the past. Will you help me?"

Makoto looked down at her hands, nicked by rose thorns and sore from kneading bread dough. They were helping hands, creator's hands, hands that shaped and nurtured and gave on a daily basis, and she wanted it to always be so. There was only one answer she would give, but she could choose how graciously it was imparted. "Of course. I would be happy to."

The grateful, humble look he gave her reminded her how many things had changed.

"So what kind of feelings are you hoping to express?"

He glanced away again, the dull pink creeping up his neck like her eager bougainvillea up its trellis. "I, er… you know that Minako and I, we have…renewed our acquaintance."

She tried her hardest to keep a straight face, inwardly gleeful at the thought of revealing to the other girls and Minako in particular Kunzite's use of euphemism. She didn't know of many other people who chose to renew their acquaintance in bedrooms. Many times over, at that.

Makoto gave him her full attention when he cleared his throat and finally spoke again. "I would like her to know how much I value her, and the chance that we have been given to have a new start together. And how I will do anything I can to make her happy, and how happy she makes me."

"I think I see," she said, a new warmth and wistfulness in her voice. "Come with me."

She led him to her newly cleared work station and immediately started piling it with flowers. "Let's start with lavender and lemon blossom, for devotion and faithfulness in love, and pair them with these white carnations. They'll tell her your love is pure, and that you find her sweet and lovely. Then we'll add some of these beautiful gardenias for joy, and top it all off with some heliotrope and honeysuckle."

Kunzite carefully accepted the fragrant bundle, and on a smaller man, they would have half-obscured his face. Makoto was glad she could see the expression on his face, for it told her without needing the words he found so difficult that she had gotten it right.

Before he left, she handed him a white bakery box. "It's Minako's favorite – cherry pie. She's been waiting for fresh cherries all season, and they finally came in this morning. Why don't you share it with her?"

His answering smile held his promise of fidelity, as strong and enduring as the hardy ivy plant, whose leaf was cut into the top of the pie.


	5. Autumn  Fin

A/N: Retroactively dedicated to Thalia (maniacalmuse/verisimilitude 9) for organizing a wonderful Ficathon. THANKS SO MUCH!

If you like Shitennou/senshi pairings, you should definitely check out the Ficathon 2011 fics (reveals will be up on Shitennou Forums soon) – it was just phenomenal this year. Everyone put so much effort into their fics, and they were an absolutely wonderful read.

This is the last chapter of _Messages_ – I had a great time writing it, and it's helped me gain some more insight into Makoto, who has always been one of the hardest characters for me to write. Thank you for reading and for all the encouraging feedback.

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><p><em>Autumn<em>

One crisp fall morning, Makoto woke before dawn. The first thing she did was water her larkspur, hoping the gorgeous, five-pointed indigo blooms would pull through the early frost. After a pause, she plucked one of the flowers and pinned it to her blouse. It never hurt to have an open heart.

There seemed to be a new, delicious aroma in the air, and she found herself looking up every time the chimes over the door rang to announce a customer. She told herself not to be silly, that she wasn't expecting anyone, and that the biggest event that was coming up in their lives was still another week away. No need to be jumpy, not when the one she waited for still hadn't come after all this time, and perhaps he might never come.

With a quiet sigh, Makoto took herself to the back of the bakery and let Unazuki handle the customers. She spent the day quietly and productively, and the part she enjoyed the most was starting on Usagi and Mamoru's wedding cake. It was going to be stunning, she knew, something out of a dream and all the better for finally being realized. She was in the middle of shaping flowers out of gum paste when Unazuki dashed in.

"Makoto, I'm sorry, but can I leave a little earlier than usual? Motoki just called – his car broke down, and he needs a ride."

"Sure. Just let me wash off my hands, and you can go right away," Makoto told her. So she was in the front, rubbing away the prints from noses and hands pressed eagerly against the glass cases, when the chimes tinkled an melody they had never chimed before, but it was one that rang sweetly in her ears.

She straightened slowly, with her back still to the door, and listened to the sound of the footsteps approaching. She felt the anticipation rush through her like champagne bubbles rising in a glass, and she almost thought this visitor could feel it, too. Expectation, hope, and warmth – those were the things that spread outward from his footsteps.

"Makoto?"

He cleared his throat nervously, and she turned to find herself at eye level with a bunch of daisies.

"I know you must have plenty of your own, but these always make me think of you."

She smiled at him tentatively as the color brushed her cheeks. "Thank you. You can never have too many flowers." Especially not daisies, with their cheerful yellow centers and soft white petals. They celebrated loyal love, beauty, patience, and simplicity.

"I know I'm late," and here she could hear the nervous note in his voice, like a squeeze of lime in sinfully smooth batter, "but I've heard everything in this bakery is delicious – and meaningful. What do you recommend?"

Makoto smiled slowly, delighted to find that her memory had been true when she met eyes the shade of Brazilian chocolate. "Why don't you try this one here, the one with the pink and white roses?"

As they sat down together and began to know each other again in the quiet bakery with the sign flipped to "Closed," Makoto felt her heart fill with happiness as she watched him eat the cake that meant "I love you still and always will."

_Fin._


	6. Outtake: Seasonal Greeting

**Title**: Seasonal Greeting  
><strong>Description<strong>: During the Shitennou's first Christmas, writing a Christmas card to Makoto becomes a joint endeavor.  
><strong>AN**: Day 11 of Advent Drabblender 2011. Set in _Messages_-verse, in the middle of Winter (after Makoto sends her gift to the Shitennou and before Zoisite comes around to them bakery). Careful readers will notice that things don't match up perfectly. First, Makoto sends her gift to the Shitennou's address rather than Mamoru's apartment but it's later mentioned the Shitennou are all staying with Mamoru. Let's stick with that latter case. Second, she sends the gingerbread house on Christmas Eve but for the sake of this piece and my sanity, let us pretend she sent it slightly earlier than that. Like a day or two before Christmas Eve. This is what happens when you insert scenes into a one-shot/wing it the way I usually do… ^^;  
><strong>Prompt<strong>: _Writing Christmas cards._

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><p>Mamoru and Kunzite came in together, dusted with a powdering of snow. As he unwound his scarf, Mamoru looked over at the blond sitting at the kitchen table and said, "Hey, Zoisite. What are you doing?"<p>

"Nothing." Unusually reticent, Zoisite dropped the pen, which he hadn't been writing with anyway, and used his arm to shield his work from prying eyes.

"Where are the others?" Kunzite asked, hanging up his leather jacket.

Zoisite shrugged, keeping an eye out for any sudden movements. "Nephrite came in awhile ago and locked himself in the guest room."

"Is he all right?" Mamoru asked, glancing at the closed door with undisguised concern.

"Yes. He's listening to sappy Christmas songs and reading bad poetry," Zoisite answered matter-of-factly, staring down at the object hidden behind his arm with renewed interest.

While Kunzite was deciding whether it was worth it to invade their privacy, the door opened again to reveal Jadeite, clutching a flimsy plastic bag in his chilled red fingers. "Hello," he greeted them, looking mildly surprised to find everyone grouped in the living room. He looked towards the guest room and noted with a sigh that the door was closed.

Mamoru and Kunzite exchanged puzzled looks. "I'll handle this," Kunzite told him. "You should go; otherwise you will be late meeting the prin – Usagi."

When Mamoru had left again, with many reminders to call him if they needed anything and checks that they remembered how to use a phone, Kunzite eyed his fellow Shitennou warily. "Where are you going, Jadeite?"

The blond man halted in the tiny hallway. "Well, since Mamoru went out, I thought I would borrow his desk."

"To do what?"

He hedged. "It's a rather private matter…"

Kunzite sighed. "Yes, there seems to be rather a lot of that going on around here."

Just then, the guest room door opened and Nephrite stuck his head out. "Do any of you know what rhymes with…toe?"

"Foe?" Jadeite suggested.

"No!" he growled. "Useless. Utterly useless." He was about to shut the door again when Kunzite stuck his foot in the door.

"Hold on, Nephrite. I need you to join us."

"Right now? I'm in the middle of something important."

"So am I," Zoisite chimed in.

"Yes. It's very important. It has to do with the senshi. Well, one of them, anyway." They all perked up at this, and it was enough to bring Nephrite completely out of the room. Kunzite continued, "Since Jupiter was kind enough to send us a present, it's only fitting we should give her our thanks." With a flourish, he pulled out a gold card covered in red poinsettias. "Mamoru helped me pick this out."

The other three stared at the card. "Are you sure that's to her taste?" Jadeite asked faintly.

Zoisite was torn between speaking his thoughts and refraining from maligning his liege. As usual, speaking his thoughts won out. "It's hideous!"

Kunzite squinted down at the card. "Well…it's possible that he mistook them for roses. You know how he is about roses."

They did know.

"And besides," he continued defensively, "selection was limited. The card store had nearly been cleaned out. Now, the appearance of the card is less important than the sentiment behind it, right? So I thought we should send her this…Seasonal Greeting together."

"It says 'Season's Greetings,'" Jadeite pointed out helpfully.

"Thank the gods," Zoisite burst out. "I've been having a terrible time coming up with what to write." He held up the card he'd been hiding to show them; the front was a dizzying geometric snowflake design in metallic blues and whites.

With a wry smile, Jadeite slid his own card out of the envelope. A discreet cream color, it was printed on thick paper with red lettering and featured a scattering of green holly leaves and red berries.

Nephrite stepped back into the guest room and came out with a tall, glittery card showing penguins sliding down a snowy hill.

Kunzite raised his eyebrows, impressed despite himself. "Well, men, it appears that we are in agreement."

"What are we going to do with four cards?" Zoisite asked.

"We'll figure it out along the way," he said, motioning for Jadeite and Nephrite to join them at the kitchen table.

Nephrite did so, sulkily. "This is all fine and well, but why can't we just each write our own?"

Zoisite shot back, "Because at the rate you're going, that poem wouldn't be done until next summer!"

He reddened but didn't deny the accusation.

"Settle down," Kunzite ordered. "Let's have some cocoa and get the task at hand done, men."

The other two brightened visibly, but Jadeite frowned. "You're expecting me to make it, aren't you?"

"Of course," Kunzite said. "You seem to have the most luck with things involving fire." He was deeply, unapologetically suspicious of the gas stove.

While Jadeite measured out the milk and chocolate morsels – no instant hot chocolate mix to be found in Mamoru's kitchen, of course – his fellow Shitennou put their heads together.

"You write it," Nephrite said, shoving Zoisite's pen at Kunzite, "your handwriting is the neatest."

Zoisite objected, "Hey! May I remind you that out of all of us, I was the only one to win a calligraphy contest and therefore am the best and only candidate for the task?"

"That was over a millennia ago, and if Makoto's grasp of Ancient Terran is anything like Usagi's, the card will be complete nonsense to her." Kunzite accepted the pen and uncapped it swiftly. "So. 'Dear Jup – Makoto–'"

"Why are you calling her 'dear'?" Nephrite interrupted.

"According to Mamoru, that is how you begin correspondence nowadays – which you would know if you had been paying attention instead of watching the television," Kunzite said stiffly. He now had two sulky Shitennou on his hands. "Jadeite, is that cocoa ready yet?"

"Water only boils so quickly," he grumbled in response.

"Very well. Let us continue. 'Thank you for the gift.'"

"No, it should be 'thank you very much!'"

"No, that's excessive."

"Add it anyway."

Faced with two against one, Kunzite sighed and crossed out the first line, adding in their revision. "I need white-out. I should have written this out on something else first."

"That card is ugly anyway," Nephrite said dismissively. "We'll use one of the other ones as the final version."

"Yes, like mine."

"Or mine."

"This one is clearly the handsomest."

"Zoisite, get me a sheet of lined paper, please," Kunzite requested.

"What for?"

"So I can draft this Christmas card."

"No! Christmas cards are meant to be genuine, from the heart. We don't need to write a draft!" Zoisite insisted.

Mournfully, Nephrite said, "My heart is a lonely and barren place. I don't think Makoto would want to see my heart right now."

"If that's the kind of poetry you were planning to write, sparing her from it should be our Christmas gift to Makoto," Jadeite muttered under his breath.

Kunzite's voice was a little too patient when he asked, "Can we continue, please?"

Jadeite and Nephrite glared at each other until they were distracted by the hissing of the boiling water foaming over the edges of the pot.

While Kunzite got up to examine whether they had permanently damaged Mamoru's pot, Zoisite snatched the pen back. "We could tell her it was delicious."

"What if we weren't supposed to eat it?" Jadeite asked.

"What? It's not meant to be eaten?" This from Nephrite, who looked more scandalized than the time Mamoru had explained to him that horses were not the dominant form of transport in this day and age.

"Well, all the ones in the store windows are whole, aren't they?" Jadeite pointed out.

"Idiot, no one puts half-eaten cookies in store windows either, and those are definitely for eating." Thanks to Usagi, they knew all about cookies.

"And on television?" Jadeite persisted. "We see children putting all the pieces together, but no one takes a bite out of it."

There was a moment's silence, and then Nephrite ventured, "But it smelled so good. Surely it was meant to be eaten."

"Perhaps not. It does seem strange to eat an image of yourself," Kunzite considered. That hadn't stopped him from devouring his gingerbread likeness in two bites, however.

"Yes, well, I didn't get to eat mine because Nephrite ate it!" Zoisite burst out, still annoyed even though he had already complained ceaselessly over the past two days.

"Well, I couldn't help it! You looked delicious."

"That doesn't make it any better."

"Hey, I let you eat my cookie."

"Only your arm was left!"

Squabbling and suggestions ensued. In the end, they took a suspiciously bulky manila envelope the day after the post office reopened.

When Makoto opened the envelope, four cards fell out, and she read them in the order indicated by the numbered envelopes.

_Dear Makoto,_

_[Thank you for the gift__.] Thank you very much for the gift. _**It was very kind of you to think of us, and the gingerbread house was delicious. Some of us were not able to resist the temptation to eat more than our fair share – **

Here there was an inky blot from Zoisite and Nephrite fighting over control of the pen.

_so we hope you will take that as an indication of how much we enjoyed the present. _

This was Kunzite's quick fix.

Unless it was not supposed to be eaten, in which case we offer our sincerest apologies.

Jadeite's scrupulous hand made itself known here.

_Also, who knew that building a gingerbread house together (Mamoru came home in time to stop us from eating the pieces before the house was assembled) could be more challenging than __[commanding an army]_** writing poetry?**

For a brief time, Kunzite resumed control until he realized he had written something he shouldn't have, and despite Nephrite's protests, he let Zoisite's correction stand.

ONE DAY, WE HOPE IT WILL BE POSSIBLE FOR US TO FIND A HOME AS BEAUTIFUL AS THE ONE YOU MADE FOR US.

Here a few cocoa stains adorned Nephrite's words, testament to the heated argument they had had over whether they could let this sentimental statement stand. They could, but only with the following additions:

**Perhaps with central heating since the weather has been foul. If it's going to be this cold, there should at least be snow.**

Perhaps not all together, either. We didn't live in such close proximity to each other even during the Silver Millennium.

_I hope these cards haven't caused any offense. Happy holidays and best wishes for the new year._

_Sincerely,_

_Kunzite, _**Zoisite**_, _Jadeite, & NEPHRITE.

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><p><strong>AN**: In case it wasn't clear, italic was Kunzite, bold was Zoisite, underline was Jadeite, and caps was Nephrite. Due to formatting constraints here, strikeouts had to be changed to [].


End file.
